


Walking on Eggshells

by Lidsworth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Therapy, bucky really needs therapy, mentions of hydra and abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 05:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: There are a lot of things that Bucky does that T’challa is not used to. Apologizing for everything is one of them.





	Walking on Eggshells

**Author's Note:**

> I think of what Bucky went through and how that translates to how he is now, and I think that certain things T’challa just wouldn’t be used to. But I find him wanting to help how he can. 
> 
> Post Black Panther, i'm my own beta so mistakes beware XD

It was one of the few afternoons that T’challa had managed to snag to himself, and he’d immediately taken the chance to spend much needed time with Bucky. He’d neglected to for half the week, and had practically dragged him to his sitting room and onto the couch. Spending the days with Bucky, watching TV, or just  _ being  _ with him was T’challa’s idea of relaxation and he didn’t get it much.  

They hadn’t been laying together for long, when Bucky shifted just slightly to readjust himself on the couch. T’challa had moved to accommodate him. Almost instantly, Bucky had mumbled a quick apology, halting his body movements immediately.

T’challa stiffled a sigh. This was a growing problem. Bucky had apologized for everything, from breathing next to someone, to making eye contact. It was concerning to say the least.

“You do not have to apologize to me all the time, Bucky,” T’Challa said, from behind the older man as they lay together on the couch,  “Especially when you haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“I’m sorry--” Bucky cringed, catching himself, “I don’t mean to do it. It’s just a habit, ya know.” 

  
“No,” T’Challa answered, honestly, “I don’t, actually.” 

“I confess,” T’Challa breathed, as he shifted his weight behind Bucky, adjusting his arm around the older man, “I’m not used to someone so close to me apologizing as profusely as you do. I am...we’re royalty, you see. It’s not like us, to apologize at every little thing.”

“Hope I’m not making you look bad or anything,” Bucky mused, sadly, “don’t wanna to embarrass you or ruin your family's reputation.” 

  
“Bucky,” T’Challa breathed, tone patronizing, “You are not ruining our reputation nor are you embarrassing me. I just want to make sure you are okay. You apologize so much, it worries me.” 

Bucky blushed, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to worry you or anything like that.”

“I understand that,” T’Challa offered, “I just want to help where I can. I don’t want you to think you’re always doing something wrong, or where you’re not wanted.”

 

“I know, I know, really, I do,” Bucky interrupted, giving T’Challa’s arm a comforting squeeze, “It’s just Hydra, that’s all. Whenever I did something wrong...I’d get punished for it. I started apologizing for small things after that, even if it had nothing to do with my training. Even when I bumped against someone I apologized. I didn’t want them to get angry with me. It’s not like it ever made a difference, but...ya know.”  

There was a silence, and Bucky feared that he’d ruined the moment. Hydra conjured up painful memories for them both, but T’challa had been the more recently affected. His father’s death was still a fresh wound in the King’s side, only coupled with the knowledge of a secret that his father had hidden from him, that had nearly cause the King his life and Wakanda. It had started with Hydra, with the release of the organizations files into the public, with a vengeful Zemo...the late King and his family had become involved with a fight that had little to nothing to do with them.

Hydra had indirectly thrown their life out of balance, and Bucky was almost certain he was a sore reminder of that. Bringing up the organization itself didn’t help either. Sometimes he could be such an idiot, desensitized to his own suffering, but still ignorant of others.

When T’Challa said nothing, Bucky felt his stomach drop. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--” 

“Bucky, it’s fine,” the king states, “it is time we start talking about Hydra anyway. We have healed your brain and removed your trigger words, but 70 years of trauma cannot be healed by science alone. At least not the silence my sister prides herself in.” Bucky didn’t disagree, though the idea about opening up to anyone, a  _ therapist  _ at that, reminded him too much of Zemo. He wanted his mind healed, but he wasn’t ready to speak to a professional.

“Can I talk to you then, for now,” asked the man, his voice small and hesitant, “until I find a therapist.”  Again the older man believed that he had overstepped his boundaries, the King’s stillness behind him unsettling. Of course Bucky couldn’t talk to him, not about his problems! He was a King, he didn’t have time for Bucky, let alone his problems. That’s why he’d han--

“Whatever you are thinking, James, stop it,” commanded the King, jerking Bucky out of his thoughts, “I can hear your heart beating out of it’s chest.” 

“I’m sorry---damnit,” Bucky cursed. Frustrated, he wriggled himself from T’Challa’s embrace, sitting up and leaning against the couch. The King’s brows furrowed, clearly concerned about his partner. “Bucky, calm down, there is nothing to apologize for.”

“I know, I know,” beyond irritated, the man buried his face in his hands.

“Bucky are you okay?” T’Challa asked, gently placing his arms around Bucky, “What is the matter? Do you not want to speak to me about your problems? Would you rather have a therapist?”

“No, it’s the exact opposite actually,” Bucky managed his words, though his voice was muffled, “I just thought it was kinda stupid to ask you if I could talk to you. You’re probably really busy and all, and its stupid if me to avoid therapy because I’m afraid they’ll go all Zemo on me and your a king and have better things to do than to listen to me complain about being captured  by Hydra can I please go now?”

“I may be a king, but a good King listens to his people, all of them,” T’Challa’s rubbed gentle circles into Bucky’s back, continuing until he slowly began to lift his head from his hands , “and I  _ want  _ to listen to you, James. Especially you. I want to help you.”   _ Because I love you,  _ went unsaid, but implied nonetheless.

Bucky loosened up a little, settling back against the couch, and slowly letting his head fall onto T’Challa’s shoulder.

“You will need a therapist though, as there are things I cannot fix. And I know how you feel about that, Bucky, but these will be my people. I will not let any of them hurt you,”  T’challa rested a hand on Bucky’s thigh, “And I will attend your sessions with you, until you ask me not to. And if you are uncomfortable with me, than you can ask one of the Dora. In fact, one of the Dora is a psychologist, and I think she counsels, as she offers services to our War Dogs. Perhaps we could ask her. . And if not that, then you can ask some of the workers around the castle to come to a session.  I know you  have spoken to them already about your issues, and they have offered their advice. You have truly made so many friends…”

The king trailed off, offering suggestions and solutions to Bucky. Therapy was scary, talking to a professional was terrifying. That’s why he had suggested T’Challa. But...but the King was right, had issues that only a professional could help. But at least T’Challa was willing to listen, and willing to help how he could.

“T’Challa,” Bucky murmured, halting the King’s monologue. He could feel T’Challa tense up against him, most likely worried Bucky would apologize again.

“Yes, James?”    
  
“Thank you,” Bucky spoke, “for everything.”    
  
“You’re very welcome,” T’Challa responded, smiling as he continued to speak. 


End file.
